by M. A. Larson
“Fear not, Leatherwolf Company, I haven’t forgotten you. Your House Princess should be along any moment . . .” She peered over her shoulder into the darkness, but there was no one there. When she turned back, her voice had gone quiet. “Now, ladies, I must warn you about Princess Copperpot. She’s had a very bad time of it with witches over the years, but don’t let her appearance fool you. She’s one of the most experienced princesses the Academy has got, and you’re very lucky to have her.” She glanced back again, then said loudly, “Ah, and here she comes now! Cadets, let me introduce your new House Princess, Princess Copperpot.”
A malformed figure lurched out of the darkness. It was a princess, that much was clear, but she seemed to have been cobbled together in a workshop. She wore an ash-gray tunic dress with emerald trim that bent around the strange S shape of her body. Both of her arms were left arms, as evidenced by one of her hands facing outward. One of her legs was made of wood and had no knee or ankle joints built into it. An eye patch covered her right eye, and long scars peeked out on either side. Wispy white hair sprouted from the left side of her otherwise bald head, and an elegant tiara was perched on top.
Evie could feel the entire company recoil at the sight of her. To make things worse, Princess Copperpot seemed to arrive furious. She cast her eye over them, her mouth pursed into a smile that threatened to break into a shout. “Good day,” she said in a voice that sounded like a hen’s cluck, “Leatherwolf Company.”
“Right,” said Princess Hazelbranch. “Shall I just leave you to it, then?” She beamed at the girls, then turned and walked off toward the Ironbone barracks. Evie’s heart sank as she disappeared into the night.
“Line up, please, cadets,” squawked Copperpot. The girls did as they were told, forming a grid on the newly cleared lawn. She ambled slowly between them like a cart with one square wheel, her head bobbing and darting about. “You might have noticed something a bit different about me. My chicken!”
Just then, a rooster buhgawk-ed from the edge of the firelight. He had white feathers with black spots, a frizzled white crest atop his head, and a brilliant red wattle dangling below his beak.
“Rooster,” said Copperpot. “Same thing.”
The rooster buhgawk-ed again.
“His name is Lance. He is my most trusted compatriot, and he is fully authorized to assume my command should I become incapacitated.” She jerked her face in front of Maggie’s, eyes wide. “This has all been cleared with Beatrice, and you can check if you like!”
Maggie said nothing, just held her breath until Copperpot backed away to continue her patrol.
“Now, where was I . . . Leatherwolf Company. A second-class company. You shall undergo the standard course of second-class training, where you will learn courage, compassion, kindness, and discipline, as well as a host of other practical princess skills, all, of course, leading up to Witches’ Night, and finally your end-of-year exams . . .”
“Pardon me, Princess. What’s Witches’ Night exactly?” said Cadet Idonea, a highborn girl who had been in Goosegirl Company the previous year.
“Witches’ Night is the greatest obstacle of your second year. It will test all that you have learned thus far at the Academy. You will not know when it is coming until you are in the middle of it, but surviving Witches’ Night is the only way to progress to the final year. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Princess.”
“Good. Now, as I was saying, you will have the standard second-class curriculum, which Lance and I have prepared in schedule form.” It was unsettling listening to Princess Copperpot. Every other word was either shouted or spoken at a higher pitch. “There are two additional items for which you will be responsible. The first is the completion of the third-class work you missed during the unfortunate events of last year.”
Unfortunate, thought Evie. That’s one way of putting it.
“During the first few weeks of term, you will divide into your former companies after breakfast. Ironbone, you will complete Enchanted Forest Orienteering with Captain Ramsbottom. Goosegirl, you will complete Well and Tower Escape with Haragan the troll. You will then regroup before lunch for your second-class training. Are there any questions?”
“No, Princess,” they said as one.
“Good. In addition to all of that, our second- and first-class knight and princess cadets will be required to help the staff with administrative duties. There will be far more cadets this year than planned, and as such you will all need to lend a hand. Crown Company will assist in the laundry. Bramblestick will help with the birds. And you will be working in the kitchens.”
There was a flurry of whispers. “I hope you lot like icecakes,” said Maggie with a chuckle. “Only thing I know how to cook—”
The rooster began squawking ferociously, flapping his wings and racing back and forth between Copperpot and Maggie.
“What’s he doing?” said Maggie, backing away from the crazed rooster.
Copperpot ambled back to where Maggie stood and peered down at her with a sour look. “I do not enjoy having foul tastes in my mouth, Cadet.”
“N-no, Princess,” said Maggie, glancing around for help.
“Then why have you just put one there?”
“I’m sorry—?”
“What is your name?”
“Cadet Magdalena, ma’am.”
“Make a note, Lance,” said Copperpot to the clucking rooster. Then she addressed the company as a whole. “I do not like foul tastes! Any of you who puts a foul taste in my mouth three times this year will be discharged. Lance has an excellent memory and will remind me should the need arise.”
“But surely you can’t rely on a rooster to decide our futures!” said Maggie. “That isn’t fair—”
“Fair? Is life meant to be fair?” shrieked Copperpot, raising her matching left hands. “I’m right-handed! How fair are things for me? Not bloody very! But you don’t hear me grousing, do you?”
“N-no, Princess,” stammered Maggie, staring at the dual left hands in front of her.
“Two foul tastes on the first day, Lance. The future looks quite dim indeed for this one.”
“Buhgawk!”
Maggie’s skin had gone gray. She was on the verge of being discharged before they’d even broken for supper. Thankfully, Copperpot tottered away from her and continued on.
“Starting tomorrow, you will begin your day in the kitchens, preparing food for the third class.”
“The third class?” scoffed Kelbra. “There’s bloody millions of them!”
Copperpot sneered. “Lance, make note of this one. She’s given me a particularly foul taste.”
Kelbra sighed, but kept her mouth shut.
“Now, let’s take a look at your work, shall we?”
And with that, Princess Copperpot and Lance began their inspection of the barracks. She ran her one bulging eye over the decrepit structures, clucking out instructions, which the cadets jumped to address. After another half hour of sweat and mold and grime and rot, Copperpot told the girls to wash for supper. She gave them, the entire company, only five minutes to do so. Evie, Maggie, Demetra, and Basil raced for the latrine, but so did every other member of Leatherwolf Company. By the time the five minutes were up, only half the cadets had been able to use the cold, murky water in the washbasins.
Copperpot handed each of them a small parchment with a weekly schedule scrawled across it, and then they trudged across Hansel’s Green, exhausted, grimy, and frustrated. Inside the Dining Hall they found a festive atmosphere, and supper already under way. Delicious aromas and excited chatter wafted all around them. The third-class cadets were packed tightly into long tables near the back, admiring their uniforms, meeting new friends, and reveling in their first taste of freedom. Even more tables were being hauled in and set up for those who had yet to arrive from Waldeck.
Everyone turned to
gawk at Leatherwolf Company as they trudged silently through the hall toward the only empty table. Not even a single day of training, and already they looked war-weary. And they hadn’t even gotten their uniforms yet.
“Completely bloody humiliating,” muttered Basil.
Through the shock of seeing the grimy, exhausted cadets of Leatherwolf Company, the happy atmosphere began to return as the third-class cadets noticed Evie. She tried her best to ignore the sea of eyes staring at her with adoration.
“Company, sit!” bleated Copperpot. The girls obeyed. Then she staggered to the staff table, her wooden leg clunking on the stone. Lance strutted along behind her.
“‘Company, sit’?” came a deep, polished voice. “Are you a company of dogs now?” Evie’s head whirled to find Remington sitting among them, just on the other side of Demetra. Down at the end of the table, staff princesses began to distribute hastily assembled plates of food for the late arrivals.
“Remington!” said Maggie. “Where did you come from?”
“She said to sit, so I sat.” One side of his mouth curled up in a smile. “Hello, everyone. Lovely to see you. What do you think of my new uniform? I’m a Huntsman Company lad now.” His doublet was a brilliant scarlet embroidered with black patterns.
“Very nice,” said Demetra. “We’re called Leatherwolf Company. Apparently they’ve forgotten our uniforms.”
“Ah,” he said. “Tragic.” His eyes flicked over to Evie, and she felt a surge of heat in her face. All those thoughts she’d had over the summer, all the times she’d imagined him . . . None of that mattered now that he was right here in front of her.
“So, Remington, did you have a nice summer?” asked Maggie.
“I did, thank you. My father thought it best that I start sitting in on some diplomatic meetings, so I learned all about striking deals where no one is happy.”
Demetra laughed. “My father certainly wasn’t. You should have heard the things he said about your dad after you left.”
Maggie signaled to Evie with her eyes, imploring her to speak.
“I must say, that was one of my favorite excursions of the summer. You’ve got an absolutely lovely home.”
“Thank you,” said Demetra. “Though you missed seeing Evie by a week.”
“Did I?” he said, his eyes twinkling and intense. “What an utter shame.”
Evie smiled politely, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Maggie slapped her forehead in disbelief.
Remington held her eyes for a moment, then said, “I do hate to dash, ladies, but I’m afraid I must. My new House Knight doesn’t seem all that partial to . . . well, to me.”
Demetra laughed.
“See you on the field.” He gave Evie one last look, then hurried across the hall to join Huntsman Company.
“What was all that?” snapped Maggie, scowling at Demetra.
“All what?”
“He came to talk to Evie, and you completely dominated the conversation.”
“I did not! I was just being polite. If I hadn’t said anything, no one would have.”
“Well, you might try being a bit more sensitive to your friends next time.”
“Don’t take it out on me because you ran afoul of that rooster . . .”
As the squabble between Maggie and Demetra continued, Evie absently scooped fish pie into her mouth. The truth of it was, Demetra was right. Why couldn’t she think of anything to say? Yes, she hadn’t seen him in months, but so what? She glanced over at his table and saw him laughing easily with his friends.
It’s only Remington, she tried to tell herself, but no amount of thinking would give her what she really wanted, which was to start the night all over again.
As the Dining Hall emptied out, the four friends made their way through the darkness to their new barracks. The night was cool and crisp, and the air itself seemed charged with excitement and possibility. Oh, how she’d missed this place . . .
“What is this nonsense? Theory and Practice of Witch Systems with Professor Ziegenbart?” Basil was peering at his schedule by the moonlight. “Advanced Castlery, that one’s with the Fairy Drillsergeant. Riddles and Puzzles. Life at Court. Applied Courage. We’re meant to do all of this and our enchanted forest work and cook meals for the whole bloody Academy? I should have stayed home.”
“I’ll be home before breakfast at this rate,” said Maggie.
“You’ll be fine,” said Demetra, who appeared ready to forget all about their little argument. “Just don’t talk when she’s around.”
“Oh, is that all?” said Maggie with a laugh. “So help me, if I miss out on becoming a princess because of some dumb rooster, I’ll . . .” She didn’t finish the thought, but the anxiety in her voice was clear.
When they reached the barracks, a familiar face waited in the aisle between the rows of bunks. Rumpledshirtsleeves, the tailor troll, watched as his tiny assistants raced from bunk to bunk, fitting each mattress with fresh bedding and pillows. He slumped over his gnarled cane, bloodshot eyes peering out from beneath a thick, warty brow.
“Welcome, Leatherwolfians!” he said, his voice croaking out from his throat like a bullfrog in desperate need of a drink. “Fabulous work with your barracks!”
“Rumpledshirtsleeves!” said Evie, a smile blooming across her face. She hurried over and gave him a hug. He smelled of jasmine and smoke, and his body squished like sand beneath her arms.
“How are you, Cadet? I see the summer sun hasn’t dulled your elegance.”
“Thank you, sir.” Other cadets approached him with hugs and greetings, then made their way through the barracks to their freshly made bunks. “I missed you while I was home.”
“And I you, my dear. I’ve thought of you quite often these months. And I hear I have you to thank for returning these barracks from the dead.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said, rubbing away some dried mud on her arm.
“Oh, take the credit, please. It does an old troll’s heart good to have these barracks back in operation. I never thought I’d live to see the Academy operating near capacity.”
“Evie! Come on, before they’re all taken!” called Maggie. Sure enough, the bunks were filling fast.
He tipped his head to her, then greeted Basil and took him outside to show him the storehouse where he would be staying. Evie walked down the row of bunks. She had to admit, it did feel nice to be back in a full barracks again. It had been many months since this had happened. The Ironbone bunks had steadily emptied as the previous year had gone on. The warm light of the torches glowing in the sconces, the buzz of voices as two old companies became one new company, the thrill of an entire year ahead. A smile bloomed across her face as she plopped down on the empty bunk Maggie had reserved for her.
She was home. Now, finally, after so many months, she was home.
As she glanced around the barracks, the warm feeling in her heart began to cool. Although there was much laughter and happiness, she also noticed several girls taking out parchments and quills to write letters. To them, Pennyroyal Academy wasn’t home.
“Maggie,” she said. “Could I borrow a parchment?”
“Why, are you finally going to write me back?” She noticed the look on Evie’s face and dropped the banter, handing over a fresh parchment.
“And a quill?”
“Of course.” She took a quill from her knapsack and a small pot of ink. “Let me know when you’re finished and I’ll show you how to send it.”
“Thanks.”
Evie took the blank parchment and lay back, propping it against her knees. She carefully dipped the quill in the inkpot and . . .
She stared at the blank parchment. She couldn’t think of a single thing to write. A drip of ink was about to land on her blanket, but she managed to get the pot beneath it in time.
“Just write what you
feel,” said Maggie, half watching from her own bunk.
“I know, I know,” said Evie. But still her quill didn’t move.
As torches began to go dark around the barracks, Evie sat up and put her feet on the cold stone floor. On one side of her, Maggie was asleep. On the other, Demetra was asleep. She set the quill and inkpot on the windowsill, folded the blank parchment, and snuffed her torch.
“I DON’T LIKE IT,” said Maggie. “I was really quite fond of the blue.”
Evie smoothed the gray material over her body, then looped the rich green belt around her waist. “It does look a bit odd, doesn’t it?” Having spent the summer in the various garments she’d been given by the people of Waldeck, Evie found that wearing the gray and green of Leatherwolf Company wasn’t as jarring as it could have been. Still, it didn’t seem natural to see Maggie in a color other than Ironbone blue. “Well, we’d better get used to it, I suppose. Where’s Demetra? It’s almost breakfast.”
“She’s over there with those Goosegirl cadets.”
Demetra was on the far side of the barracks helping Nessa and Liv with their new uniforms. She had a mouthful of pins and was busy altering their dresses. Nessa said something and they all laughed.
“Let’s just meet her over there,” said Maggie. “I can’t be late.”
When they stepped out into the predawn for their first morning of kitchen service, they found Basil waiting in his own new custom uniform, a Leatherwolf gray tunic with pale breeches and a green belt, courtesy of Rumpledshirtsleeves.
“Morning, ladies,” he said, though the crisp black sky signaled anything but. A trio of former Goosegirl cadets whispered to one another and giggled as they came out of the barracks and walked past him. His smile disappeared.
“Come on, Basil,” said Maggie, taking his arm. “I can’t wait for you to show me some of your recipes.”
“I just hope they have the right grind of flour,” he said. As he and Maggie followed the stream of cadets past huge stacks of logs and onto Hansel’s Green, his chipper attitude began to return. Evie lingered for a moment, waiting for Demetra. Other Leatherwolf girls came out and headed across the field, but not Demetra and her new friends. Finally, Evie left.
